


Somebody's Hero

by TheCatLady



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9799775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCatLady/pseuds/TheCatLady
Summary: Redfield saves Zoe’s life and gives her something to hope for. Redfield/Zoe, kinda.Contains spoilers for the plot of RE7 and the ‘Daughters’ DLC.Might expand a little in future after 'Not a Hero' comes out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I loved Zoe and thought either one of her endings was too depressing for someone who had been through so much. 
> 
> And Redfield, Chris or not, is a hottie. So why the hell not. Bakerfield? if you squint. Title is crappy coz I literally wrote this and had no idea what to call it at the end :') 
> 
> Still gotta write something Lucas-related too. I’ll get there… 
> 
> Fic contains some spoilers for the DLC ‘Daughters’.
> 
> Might expand on this one some time in the future, perhaps after the 'Not a Hero' DLC comes out and explains this Redfield lad a bit more... Forgive the format being a bit messed up.

Zoe watched in silence as Ethan and Mia together left on the boat toward the swamp with a heavy, solemn feeling in the pity of her stomach. Was it resignation or resentment she felt? She couldn’t really tell.

Part of her felt foolish for even being upset at Ethan’s decision in the first place. What else did she expect, really? Mia was Ethan’s wife, her being missing for three years didn’t change that. Of course he was going to choose to use the serum on her. It was never even a choice, really. Zoe was nobody to him by  
comparison. Her family had spent the better part of his time in Dulvey trying to kill him. 

‘Stupid, stupid girl.’

She thought about how the serum she would’ve used instead and how Ethan had used it to kill her father once and for all, and she sighed quietly under her breath. At least her father and mother could rest in peace now, their minds and bodies no longer subject to Eveline’s sadistic whim.

Hugging herself tightly and shivering from the cold winds, she turned away from the dock and made her way back towards her trailer. Zoe thought about how she regretted her outburst at Ethan, and hoped against hope he would find a way to send help… assuming there was even any help to be had, or that Ethan and Mia actually made it out alive.

She really hoped they did.

Zoe wondered then what happened to Lucas and whether she needed to be watching out for him on her journey back towards the house. She couldn’t imagine her brother was overly pleased about having his deadly machinations foiled, so it was likely he tucked tail and was in hiding somewhere, maybe coming up with some new scheme.

Would he even bother though, now that their mother and father were both dead? Did he even know about that? It depressed her, realizing she had no way of really knowing Lucas’ thought processes anymore. 

Her whole family was completely fucked, and it was all that little bitch’s fault.

The first night with Eveline flashed in Zoe’s mind as she pushed her trailer door open, having made her way back without being molested by any of Evie’s moulded creatures. She remembered her father carrying in the small, pale body of a little dark haired girl, soaked in bayou water. How unassuming and pathetic she had seemed, like a drowned rat of some kind. 

She remembered the foreboding way Eveline had declared “they’re mine now,” when she brought her a fresh change of clothes. How she’d disappeared from sight so suddenly. How Zoe had found Lucas unconscious on the dining room floor… the bugs spewing from her mother’s mouth in the bathroom… her father trying to restrain her, begging Zoe to go to the garage for rope… 

How quickly Eveline had managed to change them all frightened her. She had no idea how she managed to hold her off for so long. Ethan had been a beacon of hope, and while her hope went with him in his continued efforts against Eveline, Zoe could feel her own resolve beginning to wane, growing tired of fighting.  
She’d been fighting to survive for three years, and it seemed as though her struggle was at an end. A person can only fight something for so long. 

Zoe walked past her open fridge and didn’t even flinch at the sight of the deputy’s half-mutated head sitting between milk cartons. Lucas’ doing, she assumed. Instead, her attention was focused on the old picture of her family that was resting on the seat next to the kitchen. Zoe picked it up and observed it as she made her way back down the other end of the trailer.

She and Lucas were such cute kids, and their mother was such a beautiful, kind-faced woman. Her father looked a little stern in the photograph, but anyone who knew him knew that Jack Baker was the first to laugh and always laughed the longest. He was the kindest man Zoe had ever known. And now he was gone.  
She sprawled out on her bed, closing her heavy eyelids, her arms and wrists still raw and sore from Lucas’ mistreatment earlier. She curled up in her dark trailer, and listened to the howling wind outside, allowing it to lull her into unconsciousness.

“Mama,” she found herself saying in a soft voice. She held the picture of her family closer to her chest, her face scrunching up as a sob escaped her lips and the tears began to fall. “Daddy…” 

She woke up some time later to darkness and silence. Zoe’s body protested as she sat up gradually, her limbs and joints aching with the effort, eyes blurry and begging to be closed again. How much time had passed? Had she slept for a few minutes? A few hours? Days? She swung herself up off the bed, tucking the photo she’d been holding into her pocket and trying to ignore the deep pounding she felt inside of her head. 

Nausea fell over her in waves as she made her way to the door of the trailer. When was the last time she’d eaten? Hell, she couldn’t even remember. Swallowing thickly, Zoe took a loaded handgun out from one of her drawers and tucked it into the back of her pants. She wouldn’t be caught unawares again, not by Eveline, her moulded or even Lucas.

Stepping outside revealed that it was early morning; the sun had barely peaked above the horizon, and most of the world was still shrouded in darkness and shadow. The air smelled fresh at least, a welcome change from the usual sickly, mould-heavy air of the surrounding houses. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. Relaxation technique… just like yoga. 

Zoe had always loved dawn. It was the most peaceful time of the day. Sometimes she would wake up right before the sun would rise and go and watch it out on the water. More often than not she would find her father already down by the boathouse, tinkering away with something. 

He’d beam at Zoe when he noticed her and would always sit with her on the pier to overlook the rising sun. They’d sit silence together, father and daughter, watching the breaking dawn side by side. It broke Zoe’s heart when she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down by the pier with her daddy.  
As though a phantom force was guiding her, Zoe found herself making her way back the way she’d come the previous night. Her father’s final resting place was the boathouse, and she wanted to watch the sun rise with him one last time. 

The fires from the boathouse fight last night had dwindled away to almost nothing except for grey tendrils of smoke rising from the ruins. Soot floated in the air and landed on her skin, smudging blackness all over her and reminding her uncomfortably of the sickness that was inside of her still. 

Zoe sat down on the pier, swung her feet down and let them touch the cool water tentatively. Closing her eyes, she could almost imagine her father was sitting beside her, and the memory of all those times shared together broke her again.

She pulled the family photo out of her pocket to look at it once more, sniffing back tears and whimpering in despair.

What was even the point anymore?

Slowly, her free hand reached for the gun in the back of her pants and sat it in her lap. Zoe took turns looking between the photo, the rising sun, and the gun, contemplating what her next move would be.

Did she wait and see if Ethan brought help like he promised he would? Would she wait to see if he failed, and for Eveline to double her efforts against her? Or should she take her fate into her own hands?

She’d seen her family’s regeneration ability first hand… knew it was part of Eveline’s “gift”. Her father had gutted himself right in front of her, and he did not die. He didn’t even flinch. Did she possess the same affinity for healing as they did? Would a gunshot to the head even end it for her, or would she find herself waking up on the pier a few hours later with a massive headache and more problems?

Closing her eyes, Zoe pressed the barrel to her temple with her hand shaking so badly she was afraid she was going to drop the weapon into the water accidentally.

Only one way to find out.

Breathing deeply through her nose, her finger lightly squeezed the trigger… 

… and a wet, guttural growl close by froze her in place.

Zoe’s eyes snapped open and she saw one of Eveline’s moulded creatures nearby. Its large shark-like teeth gnashed in anticipation as it spotted her, slowly lumbering its way toward her, bloody claws extending as it gurgled.

“Shit!” she swore, scrambling to her feet and aiming her gun at it. She shot at it several times, but none of it seemed to be making much of a difference in the creature’s efforts to get to her. She was shivering and shaking so badly her aim was off, and she couldn’t land a shot on the creature’s head. Four went into its abdomen and the fifth missed her target entirely.

Terror gripped her with an iron fist as she realized it was only a few meters away. She pressed the trigger of the gun again, and realized in dismay the clip was empty. Swearing, she threw the gun aside and held her arms up to block the creature’s impending attack, her heart hammering hard inside her chest.

“Stay away!” 

Zoe’s scream caught in her throat as the creature roared and pulled its claw back, ready to attack. Suddenly, a loud, dreadful noise filled the air, the sound of multiple gun shots ringing through Zoe’s ears. The moulded creature squealed as it was mowed down from behind by somebody wielding some seriously heavy weaponry. It turned in an attempt to fight off its rogue attacker, which only allowed whoever it was to land several shots in its head, swiftly and effectively killing it. 

As its head exploded and covered the ground around it in bits of gore and mould, the creature fell to its knees, then toppled off the pier and into the water. Zoe shuddered, and felt her knees give out from under her, landing hard on her rear. She looked up as a man approached her, but she couldn’t see him properly through the glaring sunlight directly behind him.

“Ethan?” she asked tentatively, squinting through the morning rays. 

No, not Ethan. This man was clad head-to-toe in professional riot gear of some kind. Zoe had never seen anything like it. On his head was a black gas mask, and in his hands a massive machine gun. Even for someone as inexperienced as she was, she could tell everything he possessed was military grade.

He approached her slowly, holding a hand up as if to tell her not to be afraid. He strapped his gun behind his back, and it was only once he was towering over her did he take off his mask.

Her saviour was a handsome man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. Light-haired and with earnest brown eyes, he looked down at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I’m Redfield,” he introduced himself neutrally. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect to find any survivors.”

“I – who – what?” Zoe could only look up at him in astonishment. 

Redfield offered her a gloved hand and helped pull her to her feet. She wobbled and swayed, and he reached out quickly to steady her. His grip was firm, but gentle. Zoe couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her in a way that wasn’t malicious, and she found her cheeks growing warm despite the circumstances.

“What’s your name, miss?”

“Zoe,” she answered after a moment of gathering herself. “Zoe Baker.”

Something flickered in Redfield’s eyes – recognition?

“Baker?” he repeated, an edge to his tone. He seemed somewhat surprised. “As in the daughter of Jack and Marguerite Baker, the people who owned this property?”

Zoe nodded slowly. “Yes.” There was no point in denying it.

He watched her for several long seconds, perhaps trying to discern if she was some kind of threat. Slowly, he reached for the radio at his breast pocket.

“Bravo, this is Alpha, come in.” 

“Bravo here,” a voice swiftly responded. 

“Found a survivor,” Redfield reported, not taking his eyes off Zoe as he spoke. She shifted, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. “One of the Bakers.”

“The son, Lucas?”

“No, the daughter. Zoe.” 

There was a moment of silence over the line. Was he just as stunned as Redfield was?

“What’s her status?” the man over the radio asked hesitantly.

“Have you been infected?” Redfield inquired, his eyes trying to find visible signs of infection in her. There was nothing outwardly sinister about Zoe’s appearance, but there was no point in lying to him. They would find out sooner or later. If he was ordered to gun her down, so be it. 

Raising her chin, she nodded.

He nodded, seeming to appreciate her honestly. “Infected. But she seems lucid. Might be hope. Suggestions?”

“Bring her to the chopper at the meeting point and we’ll have her examined. Bravo out.”

Redfield brought his hand away from the radio, and looked down at Zoe sympathetically. She felt childish, but the way he looked at her did something funny to her insides. It felt like having your first crush at middle school all over again. Zoe rubbed her tummy absent-mindedly, trying to tell the butterflies they had shitty timing.

The nausea and headache she felt earlier came back and hit her like a tidal wave. Zoe gagged outwardly, an awful croaky noise, and stumbled awkwardly under the sudden assault. She half-expected this Redfield guy to point his gun at her, but instead his hands reached out to steady her again. It wasn’t enough this time, as Zoe lost her balance and anticipated hitting the ground once more.

Instead, this strange man – whoever he was – caught her in his arms. He seemed surprised by his own actions, even, but his hesitation was brief. Adjusting her so that his arms were supporting under her knees and beneath her arms, he hoisted her off the ground entirely.

Zoe felt like she was flying, and felt a mixture of delirium and giddiness as she was literally swept off her feet.

“Look, daddy,” she murmured under her breath, her eyes closing. “I’m like a pretty bride being carried, just like in them old movies…”

Redfield chuckled under his breath, and she felt them begin to move. “Let’s get you out of here, Zoe.”

The rocking motion of being in his arms while walking was enough to lull her towards unconsciousness once more. Taking advantage of it somewhat, her head sought the warmth of his chest. If he minded, he didn’t say anything. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so damn safe. This moment of complete and utter peace, for the first time in three years. It was with this knowledge that she allowed herself to lose consciousness, placing her trust in the hands of a man she just met… a man who had saved her life. 

Maybe it was going to be okay after all.


End file.
